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While Shamus drove us back to San Diego on Friday, curiosity got the better of me. I now had her business name and a phone number. I gave a friend of mine a call and gave him the details I had, and he had a name for me in minutes.
Ophelia Bateman.
Hamlet. Yeah… hardy-har-har.
Good one,Ophelia.
Her aliasHamlettakes the cake because she has just added a comedian to her job resume.
I repeat.Hardy har-har.
I will have to keep up the charade to show her I, too, can be a comedian.
I will have a word with Keanu and Levi the next time I see them, playing along, siding with Ophelia, keeping the ruse up even after her accident. Now I think about it; the doctor was in on it too.
I feel like such a bonehead.
Shakespeare can take a bow.
I got on to her Instagram page on the hunch she would have one for the Fainting Goat Ranch, which revealed her personality. She’s funny and creative with her posts. It is a wealth of information, all glossed up with candid, enticing images. The page shows the tiny houses and the interior designs and all the amusing moments along the way to fulfilling her dream.
I learned that she loves animals, posting about the new pygmy goats and the names her cousin, Chance, thought up. I couldn’t help laughing at the images posted of the guy posing with Pixy, his fainting goat, and the five new additions to her family. There is even a picture of the happy couple, Pixy and Pearl.
I wanted to post some comments, but I held off. I need to impress Ophelia face-to-face before I move on to commenting. She’s more than a hot body and a beautiful face; she’s intelligent and looks toward her future. I admire that about her.
A black, jacked-up pickup comes around the bend with Peterson & Son Carpentry on the side, heading toward me with the passenger suddenly disappearing.
I give the male driver a wave. Country people are friendly like that, then I slow down, pulling over to the side of the road to check my phone. Manny-the-Mini is showing he hasn’t moved from the Fainting Goat Ranch.
It’s a sign.
The several vehicles, including pickups, lining Hamlet’s driveway with a landscaping business logo on them didn’t deter me from wandering onto her property to say hello.
But little did I know it would turn out to be a false sign.
Good thing I live by the motto: If you don’t succeed at first, try again.
Ten
EARLY MORNING HUGS AND SECRETS REVEALED
Ophelia
I woke up way too early, after a restless night’s sleep where my mind was intent on thinking about Tucker.
Tucker. Tucker. Tucker.
A little before five, I gave in, getting up to go outside into the crisp morning air and sit snuggled under a thick blanket on the bench in the firepit area.
The Christmas tree is hypnotic, stealing my focus away from Tucker as the lights run through their colorful sequences, the sounds of nature their background song.
“Hey there!” I startle, making a noise, jumping up from the bench seat, dropping my blanket, when I hear Chance’s voice coming from beside the tree. “Now look what you’ve done; you scared Pixy legless.” He’s keeled over, hooves in the air. “Bugger, sorry about that little guy.” Chance looks down at his fur baby son he has on a leash.
I snatch the blanket up and sit down. “Chance, you have got to give a cousin warning when you are sneaking about in the dark.”
He plants his arse down onto the bench beside me clad in jeans and a thick sweater, hand combing his hair, looking like he stepped off a photo shoot—not just woken up. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I was giving Pixy a pee break when I noticed the Christmas lights were on, and you were over here, all alone.” He knocks his knee with mine, then gently tugs on my blanket, silently asking for me to share with him. I stand up, shake the blanket out, and sit back down, covering both our lower bodies.
We tried Pixy in the barn the first night with Pearl and the goats, but last night he stayed in the tiny house in his travel cot, which Chance brought with him. The novelty of sleeping in the barn wore off after one night, although there are strictly no animals in tiny houses.
